Moving Through Fire
by ABunchOfMellarky
Summary: When their sixteen-year-old daughter is attacked, Katniss and Peeta learn the hard way that the demons of the past cannot stay buried forever. Together they will have to face the past and finally find peace. Post-MJ. Katniss/Peeta. Rated M for adult themes, language, and sexual situations.


Hello everyone. I'm a long time fan fiction writer and have decided to break back into fic by writing for The Hunger Games. I hope all of you like it. : )

**Summary:** When their sixteen-year-old daughter is attacked, Katniss and Peeta learn the hard way that the demons of the past cannot stay buried forever. Post-MJ.

_The past is never dead. It's not even past. – _William Faulkner

**Moving Through Fire**

**Chapter One**

Scout Mellark had never experienced hunger. This was a fact that she was reminded of every day of her life. Every time the phrase 'I'm starving' left her lips her mother would fix her with a cold hard stare. Once, she accused her mother of trying to starve her after sending her to bed without dinner. She had been slapped across the face. It was the first and only time that either one of her parents had ever laid an unfriendly hand upon her. But the message had certainly sunk in. Scout Mellark did not know what it meant to be hungry, and she hoped she never would.

The lack of hunger in the Mellark family could be attributed to a great many things. First of all, her father was a baker, owning the best and largest bakery in District 12. Her father had explained to her on many occasions that their bakery had been built on the spot of land where his father's bakery had once stood. That bakery had been in the Mellark family for generations.

Secondly, both Scout Mellark and her mother were incredibly skilled with a bow and arrow. When bread could not sate, the Mellark family always found fresh game on their table, cleaned, cut, and cooked by the expert hand of her mother.

Lastly, the Mellarks were a fairly wealthy family, having a large sum of income coming from her father's successful bakery paired with a large sum of money won by both parents after their victory in the 74th Hunger Games. This, however, was money that they rarely touched, money they preferred to use for other means - means such as funding the new hospital that was erected in District 12 before Scout was born. Scout's parents preferred not to use their money if they did not have to. They had never really trusted their money, and liked to find their food by their own means. This is why Scout learned how to use a bow from a young age. This is why she was heading out into the woods today.

It was with that goal in mind that Scout slipped on her hunting boots and hopped down the stairs of her home. Looking around, it was easy to see the reality of her family's affluence. The Victor's Village stuck out like a sore thumb in the humble area of District 12. Scout's mother had explained to her that it was nothing compared to what it used to be, that the houses built during the reconstruction of District 12 were mansions compared to the shacks and shanties that once lined the streets. But Scout still felt like an outsider in this world, forever separated by the home that towered over the others. She had a feeling that her mother felt the same. When asked why they never moved, her mother simply shrugged and said "It's home."

As her feet landed on the main level of her home, she could smell the fresh scent of cinnamon wafting from the kitchen. On Sunday mornings, her father was known to bake some kind of special treat. Her favorite were the cinnamon rolls with melted icing. She had a weakness for sugar. When she was younger she used to steal sugar cubes from her father's stash in the bakery. Sometimes her parents would catch her and her mother would get upset. But Scout could see in her mother's eyes that she was sad rather than angry. A lot of inexplicable things made her mother sad. She had come to accept it as a part of life.

When she walked into the kitchen, she found her father pulling out a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the oven. The rest of her family, however, was nowhere to be seen. Usually on Sunday mornings her brother would hover over her father in the kitchen, watching every step that he made – sometimes to the detriment of her father's work. Benn Mellark was a very curious boy and wanted to learn everything about everything. That included baking. Her father had many burns that were a direct result of her brother's over excited presence near the oven. Her father was a very patient man. Her little brother was missing this morning. As she paused to deeply inhale one of her favorite smells in the world, her father noticed her presence and turned to her with a smile.

"Good morning," he said. "I made your favorite today." He placed the hot rolls on the counter and walked over to her, pushing her brown hair off of her face and kissing her on the forehead. Scout smiled and dipped her finger in the bowl of icing that her father had made.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, as she licked the sticky sweet icing off of her finger.

"Benn is at school, and your Mom went to the bakery to pick up one of the cakes in the window," her father leaned forward and whispered to her. "But I know you'd rather have these…"

Scout cocked an eyebrow, confused for a moment. "Why is Benn at school on Sunday?" she asked. "And why is Mom getting a cake? Is someone getting married?"

Her father cocked her head and smiled, and suddenly Scout felt like she was out of the loop about something. "What?" she asked, as her father began to chuckle.

"It isn't Sunday," he said. "It's Monday. April 17th." It was then that it dawned on her. Her father gave her another hug. "Happy Birthday. Your Mom and I thought you might like a day off of school to celebrate."

It wasn't often that Scout missed school, but not for lack of trying. Most of the children in District 12 actually liked going to school. There simply wasn't much to do around the district and school was a place where you could see and talk to your friends without having to feel guilty about wasting time. Scout, however, was more of a solitary being. She didn't have many friends and felt that her time would be better spent in the woods with a bow. Having her parents let her stay home was probably the best birthday gift they could have given her. That and cinnamon rolls.

As her father grabbed two plates from the kitchen cabinet, Scout started to spread some of the icing over two rolls, one for her and one for her father. They then sat down at the table and ate. With the first bite, Scout closed her eyes and savored the sweet and decadent taste. No, Scout Mellark had never known hunger. And she hoped she never would.

* * *

The sound of a bell greeted Katniss as she opened the front door to her husband's bakery. It took her by surprised and she gave a slight jump before craning her neck upward toward its source. Looking up, she saw a small bell hanging from a hook just above the door. This was a new addition to the bakery, as Katniss did not remember it being there the last time she had come in merely three days ago.

"I'll be with you in a moment," Katniss heard yelled from the kitchen. If it wasn't for the panicked tone of urgency she heard thinly masked in the voice, she might have waited. However, she decided that it was probably a better idea for her to check up on her husband's apprentice.

District 12 had grown quite significantly in the past 31 years. It seemed that after decades of stagnation, the population of Panem was eager to move around. District 12 actually drew a large amount of people after the rebellion – people who had lost much in the war and were eager to start a new life from scratch. Starting a new life from scratch was easy in a place where _everything_ needed to be started from scratch. People who had lost their homes and their families were able to come here and build brand new. Peeta's long loyal apprentice Wyatt Petry was just one of these people.

Wyatt was only five years old when his parents were killed during the uprisings in District 8. He had grown up in an orphanage in his district until he turned 18 and decided to start his life elsewhere. It was almost twenty years ago that he had walked into the bakery, asking Peeta if there was any work for him. His father had been a baker before he died and had taught his son as much as you could teach a five-year-old boy. He had also helped in the kitchens in the orphanage for as long as he could remember. Peeta took pity on the young man and hired him to start. It proved to be one of the best decisions in his life. As District 12 continued to grow, Peeta could not run the bakery himself. Wyatt had proven to be the best partner he could ask for in the last twenty years.

When Katniss heard a clatter coming from the kitchen she quickened her pace. She walked around the counter and pushed open the swinging door only to be met with the sight of roaring flames coming from the brick oven. Katniss was able to register the sight of Wyatt throwing a bucket of something into the oven before her body seized and her mind went blank. It seemed that in a matter of milliseconds, the rabid flames pouring out of the oven had engulfed the entire kitchen. Katniss could feel her whole body on fire, but her prolonged state of consciousness told her that it wasn't real. An all-encompassing fear started to take over her mind and she felt herself begin to shake.

"_My name is Katniss Mellark. I am forty-eight years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. I survived the Rebellion. I married Peeta Mellark. I have two children…"_

When the beating of Katniss' heart slowed to the point where she could no longer hear the blood pumping in her ears and she was able to once again open her eyes to the reality around her, she saw Wyatt wiping soot off of his forehead with his forearm and looking at her sheepishly.

"Sorry about that," he said. Wyatt looked concerned, his face resembling that of Benn when she would catch him sneaking cookies from the supply in the front of the bakery. Katniss felt sorry for him and wanted to reassure him that she knew he had everything under control, but could not yet bring herself to respond. The image of wild flames was still fresh in her mind. Her skin still tingled with the sharp pains of fire. She fingered the end of her braid as the image of blonde hair flooded her mind. Wyatt was still talking.

"I let Silas light the oven this morning," he explained.

Silas was Wyatt's fourteen-year-old son whom Peeta and Wyatt had begun training to work last year. Peeta had been happy to learn that Wyatt's son was interested in learning the trade, as their son had made it clear from a very young age that he was planning on doing much bigger things with this life than taking over his father's bakery. In an effort to be supportive, Peeta tried to mask his hurt as much as possible.

"He was a bit over zealous. We'll get this cleaned up right away…" Katniss still did not respond and the look on Wyatt's face grew very concerned. "Katniss, are you okay? Can I get you something? Water?"

"I need a cake," Katniss said sharply. Wyatt looked confused.

"Oh…okay…"

"I need a cake from the window for Scout – for Scout's birthday."

"Of course…you can take whichever one you want. No one's ordered any," Wyatt said.

Katniss turned around and walked out into the front room of the bakery. She walked to the front of the store, grabbed a small simple cake that would satisfy the four members of her family, placed it in a box, and started making her way back home.

When she walked into the door of her home, she heard the water running in the kitchen. Peeta was standing over the sink, washing the dishes that he and Scout had eaten on before she had left for the woods. Katniss placed the cake on the kitchen island and sat down on a stool.

"Did you get the cake?" Peeta asked, turning around and wiping the water off of his hands. Katniss gestured to the box in front of her and Peeta nodded. "Hopefully it's not stale…" he said.

"If our kids ever complain about stale cake remind me to cause them some bodily harm," she mumbled. Katniss looked down at her weathered hands and began to wring them together. Keeping her hands active were the only way she could keep them from shaking. Peeta furrowed his brow.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Katniss was silent. "You're shaking."

"Fire," Katniss said, hoping that it would be enough to explain.

"What?"

"At the bakery. There was…fire."

"The bakery caught on fire!" Peeta exclaimed. Before Katniss could explain Peeta had torn off his apron and was making a beeline toward the exit of the kitchen. Katniss caught his arm before he could leave.

"No!" She corrected. "Wyatt took care of it. It didn't catch on fire. Silas…." Peeta's bewildered look was enough to tell her that she was doing a very poor job of explaining what happened. "Silas must have put too much wood in the oven or put it too close to the front or something. The fire was huge and Wyatt was putting it out when I walked in the kitchen. It just…it took me by surprise and I had a flashback, but I'm fine." Katniss could see Peeta's body relax in relief. "The bakery is fine. Wyatt is fine. The only person who I'm sure is not going to be fine in this scenario is Silas."

"Everything is fine?" Peeta asked, wanting to be completely sure that his livelihood was not in danger of burning to the ground.

"Yes," Katniss assured. "Although you might want to talk to Wyatt and reassure him he isn't going to be fired. I was pretty unresponsive when he tried to show me that he had everything under control."

Peeta sighed. "He knows that could never be an option. He practically runs the place now. It's just a matter of time before the place becomes completely his."

Katniss nodded and forced a smile as Peeta looked over her face for any sign of distress. Peeta sighed again and gestured her over to him with his finger. "Come here," he said.

It did not take long for Katniss to oblige. She stood up and walked over to her husband, letting him wrap her arms around her. She closed her eyes and pressed her face in the crook of his neck. She took a deep breath to calm herself and savored the smell of soap, flour, and something else that was just unexplainably Peeta. Even after all these years Peeta's arms were the one place where she felt completely and totally calm.

* * *

"Ow!"

Katniss turned around to the sight of her thirteen-year-old son squeezing his three middle fingers on his right hand. In front of him was a box of matches and a singular lit candle on the top of his sister's birthday cake. With a frustrated huff she left the stove where she was currently cooking dinner and marched over to him, grabbing his hand in hers to assess the damage.

"Benn!" she exclaimed on her way over. "I swear, for all those smarts I sometimes wonder where your common sense is," she scolded as she walked him over to the kitchen sink and stuck his fingers underneath a stream of cold water.

"Peeta!" she yelled.

"Yes?"

"Will you bring some burn salve from the medicine cabinet?" Once she heard a confirmation from her husband, she forced Benn to open up his fingers so that she could see what he had done to himself. The injury wasn't that bad. Most of it was just pink skin. However, a small patch was beginning to blister on his middle finger. But, all in all Benn would live to tell the tale unscathed.

"Just what exactly were you thinking?" she asked.

"I read that if you move your fingers through fire fast enough that you won't get burned," the young boy explained. Katniss rolled her eyes. This was not the first time that her son's rabid curiosity and need for empirical proof had worked to the young boy's detriment.

"And how did that work out for you?" Katniss asked as Peeta walked into the kitchen, carrying a small tub of salve. Benn shrugged.

"Okay at first. But I wanted to see how slow was the slowest you could move without getting burned." Katniss unscrewed the tub and began rubbing the salve on Benn's fingers. He let out a hiss as his mother's finger touched the most sensitive part of his.

"So you wanted to burn yourself?" she asked.

"No," Benn said. "I thought that I'd be able to tell if I was going too slow and then I'd pull my hand away before it burned me."

Katniss sighed again. "Well here's a tip, if you don't want to get burned, then don't play with fire."

"Okay."

"Why don't you go in the living room and study for your exam until your sister gets home."

"Okay." Benn practically skipped off into the living room. Katniss watched him go and shook her head. She turned to Peeta who was smirking as he bent down to blow out the candle that was still lit and dripping wax unto their daughter's cake.

"You see now why I didn't believe it when his teacher told us he was a genius," Katniss said, turning her attentions back to the simmering meal on the stove. Peeta laughed.

"I don't think she used the word genius," Peeta clarified.

This was technically true. No one had ever claimed that the youngest Mellark was a genius. However, it was made very clear to them by the educational council that their son had certain gifts. He was the highest in his class, outscoring all of his peers not only in the classroom setting, but also in standardized testing issued by the Capitol. Having never taken tests like these when they were in school, Katniss and Peeta were not exactly sure what that meant. Apparently it meant that Benn was eligible for independent schooling in which he could train to qualify for placement in institutes of higher learning.

Katniss was not fond of the idea of her son being taught in such an institute. This was mostly due to the fact that the only place where these schools existed were in the Capitol, and she had made a promise when both her children were born that they would never step foot in the Capitol as long as she was alive to stop it.

However, Benn was determined. He had spent the last year with his nose in his books, hoping to secure a spot in a special educational track where he would study with a small group of peers for the next four years in preparation for applying to the University of Panem. He claimed that his entire life rested on how well he did on one test to be taken this year. This one test would decide whether or not he would be taught what he would need to know to apply. Katniss did not like that her son believed his life was on the line at a mere thirteen years old, but she had no choice but to support him.

"It's getting late," Peeta said as he looked out the kitchen window. The sun was going down and in a matter of moments it would be completely dark outside. Katniss immediately knew the point that he was trying to make.

"She's fine," she assured him. "I told her she didn't have to be home until dark. She's probably off with Marcus somewhere."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Peeta asked. Katniss rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Yes. It is," she explained simply. "I was with Gale all the time when I was sixteen."

"And I know what Gale was thinking."

"You don't know anything about what Gale was thinking," Katniss sneered. "And you think I don't know what people whispered about me and Gale? I won't have people whispering about my daughter, especially her own father!"

"Sorry," Peeta said. "I'm just worried that's all. She's usually home by now."

Katniss didn't say anything after that, and it was mostly due to the fact that she was trying to quell her own discomfort at the absence of their daughter. The sun had now completely disappeared below the horizon and in the wood covered expanse between town and the Victor's Village it would be completely black. She had to remind herself that her daughter was sixteen years old today and perfectly capable of surviving a walk home in the dark. After all, when Katniss was sixteen, she was surviving….well she was surviving much worse things.

By the time Katniss finished cooking dinner, it was completely dark and Peeta was still standing by the kitchen window, growing more and more concerned with every passing moment. It was completely silent in the kitchen save for the sound of Haymitch's squawking geese down the street. Katniss watched him with a growing concern of her own, concern that grew very real when she saw her husband's hand grip the back of a table chair and his knuckles turn white from pressure.

"Benn," she yelled into the living room, keeping her eyes fixed on Peeta. "Go upstairs."

"Why?"

"Just go upstairs now!" Benn did not obey until he heard the sound of the kitchen chair hitting the floor.

"Peeta…" Katniss said calmly. "It's not real. It's okay. Calm down. It's not-"

However, before Katniss could repeat that his thoughts were not real, a shrill scream sounded from outside. It was distant, but loud enough to be heard. Katniss, as well as Peeta, even in his hallucinogenic state knew immediately whom the scream had come from. In that one moment, all of Katniss' wildest nightmares had come true. Her body seized with panic as the faces of all of her dead loved ones flashed before her eyes.

However, Katniss did not have time to succumb to her flashback as she had that very morning. Instead, she was acutely aware of the war that was going on in her husband's mind. The blinding and crippling fear of losing her daughter was suddenly intensified as it was coupled with the fear of her husband's flashback turning violent and vengeful for the first time in nearly two decades. Katniss watched as Peeta flew into a rage, running to the kitchen counter to grab a kitchen knife and then trying to get out.

"Peeta!"

Katniss tried to stop him. She wanted him to stay here while she went out to find their daughter. Yet, her own panic and fear inhibited her ability to think correctly. Instead of reaming calm, she reacted physically, reaching out to grab Peeta's arm. But Peeta responded violently to her efforts, flailing his body and grazing her cheek with the knife that was in his hand. Instinctively she brought a hand up to her face to place pressure on the stinging pain. Peeta ran out of the house. Katniss took a deep breath, grabbed her bow and quiver from the closet, and ran off after him.

* * *

**TBC….**

Thanks for reading. Reviews are very much appreciated.


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